


Moments of Love and Death

by CassandraMoats



Series: Moments of Love and Death [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Modern Verse AU- high school/college
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-03
Updated: 2013-10-29
Packaged: 2017-12-22 07:34:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/910589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassandraMoats/pseuds/CassandraMoats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire and Jehan are best friends who occasionally smoke  and drink together- something happens to Grantaire, and everyone worries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Highest High

**Author's Note:**

> A/N Q&A time! “Is this going to be sad?” Not this chapter, but the rest. Actually this chapter is a little sad, not very. “Are there any trigger warnings?” Yes! Drug use, alcohol use and suicidal intentions. “Gee Mikayla, that’s sad, gonna keep warning us?” Of course, what kind of writer would I be if I didn’t? “Is this an AU?” Modern verse, high school & college. Joly, Marius Bossuet and Bahorel are college freshman. Enjolras, Grantaire, Eponine, Combeferre and Courfeyrac are high school seniors, and Cosette, Feuilly, Musichetta and Jehan are high school juniors. “Are we going to pretend it’s less than unrealistic for a group of friends so huge to all go to the same college?” Absolutely.

It seemed from the get-go Jehan and Combeferre were meant to be. When Jehan sat next to someone at their meetings for their club, it was always Combeferre or Grantaire, though normally the cynic preferred to be by his lonesome. {so he could draw Enjolras without Jehan’s constant giggling.}   
Every so often he’d find himself a little buzzed from the night before {drugs were his forte, as alcohol was Grantaire’s} and get tired out, or space out at the meetings. Now he knew better than to try and talk at these unless spoken to {he’d gotten very good at faking paying attention, and he knew how Enjolras hated the things he and Grantaire did in their free time; still he didn’t say anything about them} but he’d probably fall asleep these days, usually on the person next to him. Combeferre very often found himself with a poet attached to his lap as he spoke to Enjolras about their plans.  
But on normal days outside the meetings, he’d go and find someone he knew and go to the park with them. “Every day is beautiful.” He had told Combeferre once on a day that had tried raining, but couldn’t quite get the rain out of itself. He was sitting on the playground under its tarp of a roof and writing on Combeferre’s arm.  
“What do you mean mon cher?” he asked Jehan. Combeferre had not seen the poet in the last few days due to illness {he had a cold and his mother wanted him to stay home.  
“Well, look at the sky.” He told Combeferre. “It’s grey I know, but it’s a soft shade of grey, for the most part. And look at the park. There’s something a little melancholic about a park void of children. The wind is soft, but the cold is harsh. And it reminds you how much you love the warm, and how much you love children.”  
Combeferre smiled at the poet. “You must be feeling particularly poetic today.”  
“I feel particularly poetic nearly every day mon amour.” Jehan told him. “Let’s go on the swings.”  
“Aren’t you afraid the sky’ll make up its mind and rain?”  
“You’re right.” Jehan smiled and took his sweater off. “Alright, let’s go swing.” Jehan hopped off the other, and Combeferre, who was very discreet in everything he did, very discreetly watched the back of Jehan, who wore a shirt probably too small for even him {probably purposeful, little bastard} and took off his own sweater, since Courfeyrac would most definitely kill him for ruining it {“It looks great on you!”} and he actually did like it.  
“So we should do something you and me.”  
“Do what?”  
“I don’t really know. Anything.” Jehan started to swing. “We can go do anything you and me. I mean I definitely think we should. I mean, we should get food, and bring it back to this park- there’s a sandwich shop within walking distance… Or we could go home… I don’t mind going home, you know I’m really up for anything, Combeferre, anything at all.”  
Combeferre chuckled at the other. “You’re adorable when you ramble you know. Keep rambling, and we can go to the sandwich shop if you like.” He told the other, starting to push Jehan’s swing.   
“Well uh, ‘Ferre… Did I tell you how I got this?” He pointed to his eye, which was beginning to turn awfully ugly, but its swelling was going down. He couldn’t have gotten it more than a day ago. “Yeah, well I was in class and we were watching a movie, some stupid the-teacher-is-sick movie… And so I was there, watching the stupid movie right, and… Oh it was the really crappy version of Romeo and Juliet, where they still speak in iambic pentameter, but they use guns and they wear modern clothes and stuff. I said something along the lines of ‘It was marketed to please what Hollywood thought both sexes would want, and it didn’t go well’ and so you know who… Louis if you don’t know who, he says, he says ‘Oh look, here comes another men and women talk. Prouvaire, when’ll you learn that girls and boys are different?’ and I mean, everyone is different ‘Ferre you know?”   
Combeferre made a noise of agreement when Jehan swung back to him. “Any way, I told him so much, and he said ‘Only boys like you are like girls.’ And he called me the word I don’t like… By the way the sub was making copies or something during this whole exchange, I wasn’t being ignored.”   
The unsaid ‘this time’ hung in the air. “Any way, and so I told him again I didn’t like the word, and he said ‘oh shut up Prouvaire, you’re trying to deny what you are.’ And I told him ‘If you’re trying to say I’m gay, that’s not particularly true either. I just like cute people; people cute in the mind and soul’ like you.” At that Combeferre smiled. “And he made a face, and called me a freak and punched me hard. And uh, I did punch him back,” Combeferre winced, he hated when Jehan fought. “So then he punched me in the eye. There’s the true story of how Jehan Prouvaire got punched…”  
“Do you have detention?” It was a valid question; Jehan only got detention about half the time, because he was either the most loveable little devil who got picked on, or the ‘that word’ as Jehan put it.  
“No, the sub walked in when the actual fighting part started, and she saw who threw the first punch. She was fair, said it was mostly me trying to keep him off of me.”  
“Well that’s good then. Does your jaw hurt? You’ve got a big bruise there too.”  
“They don’t hurt. They just feel sort of like I got punched by an asshole.”  
“Did you get good hits in on said asshole?”  
Jehan blushed. “He looks worse, wait till you see him Monday.” Jehan looked absolutely thrilled with himself, but his face softened when he started talking again. “You know why I called you here today, I mean I should probably tell you… I’m living at Grantaire’s right now…” Jehan bit his lip and blushed, which Combeferre couldn’t see since he was still pushing Jehan on the swing. “Before you say anything, let me tell you… Obviously you’re not an idiot, so you know it’s not like that and I’m cheating on you… I wasn’t worried you’d think like that. Mum and dad, we got in a fight when I got home… I don’t want to go into details unless you really want me to… Point is mum and dad upset me a lot… I have eyes in the back of my head, I know you’re looking at me like that. I didn’t call you because I spent last night at Grantaire’s crying and drinking hot chocolate and other stuff… Yes, it was Grantaire’s hot chocolate.” Grantaire was a thousand percent sure hot chocolate was ten times better with bourbon, a fact everyone knew. “I didn’t want to call you when I was like that okay… I know you want me to call you every time I feel bad, but… You had a big test today, I didn’t want to worry you… And Grantaire lives a lot closer, and I just know the way.”  
There was silence for a moment and Combeferre abruptly pulled the swing to a stop, wrapping his arms around Jehan. “Are you okay mon amour?” Jehan leaned back into him. “I’m not mad at you, I’m not… Please don’t think I’m mad, I told you to tell me if something happened like this, I don’t want you to think I’m angry you did what I asked of you… Just… It’s okay, Grantaire’s hot chocolate isn’t horrible, and you don’t look smashed… I’m glad you told me okay?”   
Everyone knew the kinds of things Grantaire and Jehan did in the dark; the shy blushing poet and the drunkard {a senior in high school and already a drunk, it made Combeferre worry about his friend} were the kind of boys to smoke and do this or that they got at parties. Of course, everyone knew they took care of each other more than they took care of themselves; Jehan once dragged Grantaire home with a broken arm, and Grantaire had stopped a drunken Jehan {Jehan played to get smashed} from sleeping with a possessive ex-mistake.  
“You’re definitely not mad then? I was really afraid you’d get mad at me and uh… Can we get sandwiches now, I really want a sandwich I don’t want to talk about this anymore, I know I brought it up, but it isn’t something I want to talk about anymore, I just wanted to tell you because… You told me you wanted to know when I did this kind of stuff, and I want you to trust me.” He took a breath and sighed. “Sandwiches then?”  
Combeferre kissed his cheek. “Sandwiches then.” He nodded at him. “I’m sorry that you left your parents. If you want to come over tonight you can, but I’m not going to force you cher.” Combeferre went to get his and Jehan’s jackets, drapping them both on the tiny poet, who was perpetually cold {Even though Combeferre was bigger than Jehan Combeferre’s jacket was smaller. Jehan’s jackets made him look like he was Bahorel’s size, they were all huge}  
“So what kind of sandwich do you want? I’m buying today.”  
“Don’t buy for me because you feel bad for me.” Jehan crossed his arms.  
“I’m not… I’m buying for you because I love you, and I’m a wonderful boyfriend who does nice things for his even more wonderful boyfriend.” Combeferre pulled a blushing Jehan into a hug.   
“Y-you’re too sweet.” He told the other, cuddled up in the two jackets, and leaning on Combeferre. “You’re sure you’re not cold?” he asked.  
“Positive.” Combeferre led the other to the sandwich shop, getting both their orders mentally prepared and then buying them. Jehan got roast beef and brie and Combeferre grilled chicken no cheese.  
The ordered their food and made their merry way back to the park, to find a few children now, but they didn’t mind. The two took up the level between the ground and slide, and late their sandwiches with Jehan lying on Combeferre’s lap.   
“Mummy, mummy there are giant kids in the playground! A boy and a girl!” a little girl had shouted, and Jehan peeked his head out and waved.  
“I’m a boy love.” He told her.   
“Nuh-uh! Boys have short hair, because boys are lame.”   
Jehan chuckled at the child. Combeferre took this time to come out of the playground. “Jehan’s a special boy. He’s allowed long hair.”  
“Wow. That makes you cool!” The girl told him, and ran off to tell her mother what all she had learned.  
Combeferre chuckled and kissed his cheek. “You’re a special boy you know. Come on, let’s head to my house… I’ll make you regular hot chocolate and we can cuddle up on my couch.” He promised. Jehan nodded, and took his hand so they could go do that.


	2. Lowest Low

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad things happened to a good friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING FOR SUICIDE ATTEMPT AND {POSSIBLE} CHARACTER DEATH. Also this chapter will give you the sads. Trigger warning; sads

Jehan, so often thought of as the little brother of his friends, was perhaps the wisest of them. He could especially be caught as Grantaire’s little brother, doing things they both regret now, and things they both are still proud of.   
The good definitely did outweigh the bad; like the time Jehan left his family and moved in with Grantaire’s distant, but decent parents. Of course he only left his family a few days, finding arguments like what they had {Jehan’s mother who was normally decent told her son he should try and fit in more after a particularly nasty fight the boy endured, and his father agreed. He later told his parents how he felt about that and why he had left and they understood.} Grantaire let Jehan cry on him about how he thought his mother and father didn’t want him as Jehan anymore, and Grantaire told him there was no one he’d rather Jehan be. Or the time that Grantaire nearly missed his high school graduation and Jehan drove him there and made him presentable in under twenty minutes {Even Courfeyrac was impressed that Grantaire could look so good, something Jehan is most proud of.}  
Then there were the few bad times; The drugs, the pills, the alcohol, all the things that Jehan had pulled himself out of after the worst of it and wouldn’t let his best friend drown in. He remembered the night he got so high he made love {“Fucked Jehan. You two fucked.” Grantaire always reminded him} to a serial killer {“How do you even know a serial killer Jehan?” his friends would ask} and later had to run away from him. There was the worst night of his life too.  
It was right after Jehan had moved back in with his parents, after two weeks of living with Grantaire’s family. He had made nice with them, and everything was going to be okay. He’d gone to Grantaire’s to get his final box and thank him and his family. “Monsieur Grantaire, thank you for letting me stay as long as you did.” He told his friend’s father, hugging him tightly. Jehan was an affectionate soul, and even Grantaire’s father couldn’t say he minded the boy’s hugs. The bruise on his jaw and his black eye had turned yellow as of late and he didn’t look too bad. Not as bad as after his fight. He ran off to find Grantaire. “Hey, it’s Prouvaire, I’m looking for you… Just thank you for talking your family into letting me stay.” And that’s when he saw him.  
Grantaire was lying on the floor, a bottle of pills and a bottle of whiskey next to him, both of which more than half empty. Jehan can still tell every detail about it. He can tell about how he sat next to the other’s side and called the cops {he remembers his voice being hollow} and calmly calling Grantaire’s parents to get in their son’s room. He remembers riding in the ambulance with his nearly brother and trying to calm his friend’s parents, not sure if any of the words coming from his mouth were true. He remembers calling their friends and telling them what happened. He remembers waiting. A lot of waiting. So much waiting that he realized how the waiting room got its name. He didn’t sleep the entire wait, didn’t think he could.   
He remembers Combeferre sitting by him, refusing to let go until Combeferre fell asleep in his lap.   
“Perhaps you should get a sleep… nap, I meant nap.” Joly sounded as though he were to suggest medicine to help him sleep; which would be the worst idea for Jehan right then. Not when medicine could put his closest friend out permanently.   
Jehan remembered how Enjolras convinced Combeferre to go home and sleep, promising to watch over Jehan. “So you don’-don’t think… He did this…”  
“Enjolras I moved back into my parents’ house. And then he did this and now… Enjolras what if he doesn’t make it?”  
“Now you stop talking like that Jehan… If there’s one thing I know about Grantaire he’s stubborn-“  
“And he’s lost his fucking will to live. Don’t try and tell me he’s gonna be okay because he wants to be. He wants to die. He told me that you know. We were…” He softened his voice, knowing Enjolras was going to hate him for the next bit of the story.   
“We were high Enjolras, and he told me, he says ‘Jehan, I don’t think I’d like to live anymore.’ I didn’t think he was serious, because he gets weirder high like I get weirder drunk and… Shit I don’t know where this was going… Oh right, right… Grantaire says that and I say back ‘Nah you wanna live.’ I don’t like hearing him say bad things you know… But he says ‘No Jehan, I think I wouldn’t mind dying.’ I thought it was just him being high and talking and… Enjolras he tells me not to tell anyone, and I promise not to if he promises not to die and oh god I shouldn’t be telling you now he-“   
This is the point where he can’t keep talking, because when Jehan gets excited, he gets himself panicked. And he has a panic attack. Enjolras sits with him through the whole panic attack, getting him to calm down, telling the nurses he’ll be fine {He has panic attacks often, and Enjolras knows how to help him, thanks to Combeferre} and getting him a drink.   
“Jehan, you’re okay. This is not your fault. Look at me.” He pulled Jehan’s head up to look at him. “We’re going to wait here, because this isn’t your fault. It’s not. It’s no one’s fault. Grantaire has a lot going against him. Grantaire’ll forgive you okay? And he’s gonna be okay. Do you want to go to his room?” They had been in the waiting room for a while. Jehan nodded and stood up. “I’m going to call ‘Ferre okay? He’s going to come here.” Jehan had always adored Combeferre, and he could calm Jehan down the most, after Grantaire. {Grantaire wasn’t currently an option.} Jehan nodded and made his way to the unconscious Grantaire’s room, stopped again by Enjolras. “You’re not going in alone Jehan. Wait for me.”  
Finally, after the call had been made, he made his way into Grantaire’s with Enjolras. Both of the high school students needed comfort in each other- Jehan was how Enjolras, first met Grantaire. Jehan and Enjolras’ parents knew each other for a long time, and the boys had been nice enough to each other, just hadn’t been too close as young children. Enjolras looked at the dying cynic and squeezed Jehan’s shoulders, seeking comfort. Jehan had only cried during his panic attack, and did not cry looking at Grantaire, but grabbed Enjolras’ hand and squeezed it, giving the other comfort. Combeferre would be good to come up to the hospital; he was Enjolras’ best friend, and Jehan could seek comfort from him.   
“He looks sad. Like this wasn’t what he wanted.” Jehan told Enjolras, walking away from him and sitting next to Grantaire. “Hey, it’s Prouvaire… I’m looking for you… Just thank you for talking your family into letting me stay. And I’m gonna try and talk you into staying… I don’t even know if you can hear me… God I sound corny… But we’re best friends, we should be allowed to sound corny to each other… Remember that time that my mother asked if we were dating and we laughed for like an hour? She asked about you before I left to your house… She said ‘so how’s that platonic life partner?’ Remember the first time she called you that? I do. I said to her earlier, I told her ‘Oh Grantaire’s okay I guess. He’s a good person’ because you are R, you’re a great person. You talked me into making it up with mum and dad, and you talked me into keeping my hair long after those guys tried to cut it and… God I miss you. I haven’t left the hospital since we got here.” He reached out and grabbed Grantaire’s hand rubbing small circle.   
“You know it’s funny… Your mum calls me ‘petite fluer’, but honestly… You’re the flower out of us… You’re so afraid the sun’ll burn you, you look down away from it. And that’s okay, but I you know, the sun is a wonderful thing… And burns fade, you hang out with me enough to know sunburn fades. I just… I want you to know that I’m so happy you’re my best friend, even if you don’t… Even if this is the last time I’m going to rant and rave to you, I want you to know, I’m so proud of you- and I’m sorry I couldn’t help you enough… You tried to ask for it in your own Grantaire way, and I didn’t help. You’re the best friend I could have ever asked for. You taught me to dance and to box. I’d like to think I taught you something- and don’t think this is a big goodbye speech, because I fully expect you to wake up soon, and when you do, I demand something sarcastic about how I talk too much. Because it’s your own Grantaire way… Enjolras is here you know. He’s standing in the doorway like an idiot.” Enjolras gave him a look. “No, don’t look at me like that Enjolras, you look like an idiot in the doorway.”   
Enjolras rolled his eyes and came over. “Okay, I’m gonna be your eyes in here.” Jehan looked around. “Enjolras is wearing his red hoodie with his hood down, and his protest jeans… Don’t ask me why he has on his protest jeans, I don’t know either… I’m wearing,” he looked down at himself. “I’m wearing that blue and black shirt that you think makes me look like a Powerpuff Girl. And uh, green scrubs that would make Courfeyrac cry if he was here. ‘Jehan for Grantaire’s sake can you please wear something that at the very least matches.’ Courfeyrac matches his shoes and shirt though, so that they’re the same colour. You like to make fun of that.”   
At this, Jehan felt the hand he was rubbing circles on squeeze his. He broke into a grin. “Look, there. You’re gonna be okay, I know you will. I’m going back to the waiting room, because I don’t want to have a panic attack again. I’ll be back soon, okay? I promise. Get better.” Jehan pressed a kiss to Grantaire’s forehead, and turned to Enjolras. “I’m going to wait outside for Combeferre. Will you be okay alone here?” Enjolras nodded.   
He needed to be alone in fact, and he was certain Jehan needed a few seconds to collect himself before ‘Ferre showed up.


	3. No One Is Alone {But Mostly Me}

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N; Before you ask, the original name of this chapter was not The Middlest Middle, don’t be silly dear reader. However, I should point out the title is a mix of two wonderful, and sort of offensive musical songs {Sondheim’s “Into The Woods” and the South Park writers “Book of Mormon” I highly recommend them. “Any triggers?” I don’t think so, let me know if you find any of it triggering and I’ll gladly add it.

“Jehan, sorry, I shouldn’t have left, I-“ Combeferre was easily silenced by a bone crushing hug, which he returned to the tiny poet. “Are you better now? Enjolras said you had a panic attack… Where is Enjolras?”  
“He needed his alone time- you know Enjolras, he won’t get emotional with anyone but an unconscious person, and he needed to be alone.” Jehan looked a little more reserved than he normally did, which was saying something.   
“How do you feel right now mon amour?” Combeferre worried about Jehan; he looked like he hadn’t slept in days {two days to be exact, creeping onto two and a half, but not that Combeferre was keeping count} and he needed to sleep.  
“Funny, I feel light right now.”  
“Explain?” Jehan often said things than Combeferre didn’t understand, used metaphors too advanced for the future doctor or philosopher {he’d yet to make up his mind despite being a high school senior} and needed the poet to explain.  
“I feel light; in both senses. I feel like I’m walking on air, floating into the unreal, and also, I feel like a stark bright light, like I’m blinded by myself. It’s weird though, because normally if someone were to say they feel light, they’d being using it in a positive connotation, but I don’t feel positive… I feel like my best friend tried to kill himself, and there is literally nothing I could’ve done for him, nothing I did and I don’t know if he’s going to wake up and Combeferre I’m going to throw up and-“ Combeferre pulled the boy close.   
“Breathe, you’re panicking again. I don’t think you want to panic again. It doesn’t help anyone, especially not you or Grantaire, and forgive me for being selfish and tagging myself on there, because I don’t want you to have a panic attack, love.” Combeferre took Jehan and set him down into a chair, curling them together. “I think you should go home and take a nap. You’re stressed, you’re concerned, and you haven’t left the hospital.”  
“But what if Grantaire wakes up, he’s bound to soon, I promise I’ll take a nap and go home after he wakes up, I promise.”  
“Will you at least nap a few minutes, here? I promise I’ll wake you if anything changes, please? I love you too much to see you get sick from this cher.”  
Jehan sighed, admitting defeat. “You have to wake me up if something happens. If he wakes up, if he suddenly has eighty doctors rush to his room, if they so much as change the channel of the TV in his room, let me know.” That made Combeferre smile a little, and he promised, setting Jehan to lie himself over ‘Ferre’s lap. “Remember.” He said sleepily. “I never got my regular hot chocolate… God I could go for Grantaire’s hot chocolate, but yours is special too.”  
“I’ll make you some.” Jehan smiled and then he was out like a light.   
Soon Enjolras was out of the room, and sighed, relieved Jehan had finally set himself down to sleep.  
“I should kill you for leaving him alone- but I won’t.” Combeferre told Enjolras, still looking at the poet, petting his hair. “I won’t because Jehan left you alone, didn’t he? He’s a good man. Better than all of us- he doesn’t deserve this… And Grantaire, god is he okay? I hope he’s okay. I’d go in myself, but visiting hours are nearly over, and I don’t want to risk waking Jehan… Enjolras come here.” Combeferre called to him. “You look like shit.”  
“Thank you.” Enjolras rolled his red eyes. He’d obviously been crying, no wonder Jehan left him alone; Jehan could practically read emotions like they were books.   
“Are you okay Enjolras?”   
“Not particularly, but only you have heard this.”  
“Enjolras, no one expects you to be okay all the time.”  
“I know… What about Jehan, how’s he feeling?”  
“He could be better probably… At least he’s sleeping now. We shouldn’t throw a pity party for him… Or for Grantaire you know. Grantaire would take the proper time and punch all of us in the face if we threw him a pity party.”  
“Agreed… Alright, I think it’s time I head home… Father’ll be angry.”  
“Since when have you given a flying fuck what your father thought. Enjolras you want to be here, but you don’t want to admit it. So being a good friend, I’m going to strongly suggest you sit your ass down, or so help me god I’ll duct tape you to a chair and wake Jehan to help me.” Enjolras, taken aback at his friend’s words did as he was told.  
“Now, you would like to pretend you’re a perfect marble statue who doesn’t feel but let’s face it, not even you believe that, and you can be pretty dense if you try hard enough. No, the only person who actually buys into what you throw out is currently unconscious and in critical condition; which means something to a guy who wants to be a doctor. It means Grantaire might not make it. And he’s not going to be better if he does. He’s gonna be mad if I know anything about him. So here’s what’s happening tonight; Jehan is going to call your father and tell him your staying at his, and the three of us are going to stay at his, because my house is small, and your parents are pricks who hate us. Neither of you two should be alone, and frankly I don’t fancy it either. He’s my friend as much… Okay it’s different, but we’re good friends, and I’m worried. Any questions?” Combeferre looked at the other and frowned. “Come on, I’m getting you a soda. Watch Jehan, don’t wake him.” Combeferre carefully and quietly shifted his boyfriend so he wasn’t going to wake when Combeferre got up. He kissed Jehan’s cheek and headed off.  
Enjolras reflected. He thought about what happened after Jehan had left. He sat down where Jehan had sat and talked. “So uh… I don’t actually know if this works, but I guess Jehan does, he said you squeezed his hand, so here’s to hoping you wake up… You know you’re worrying the hell out of Jehan; he hasn’t slept since you got here… So I mean, wake up for him okay? And maybe, maybe just a little bit for me? I mean, okay, it’s kind of selfish to ask. Because… Grantaire just let me be selfish for five fucking seconds.”   
This is about where he started crying. “God, I can hear your voice right now. ‘A thought not for the people? Tsk, tsk Enjolras, never going to save the world that way.’ Well okay yeah you’re right. But I’m not going to save the world if you’re lying in this fucking bed being unconscious, so it’s really your fucking duty to get out of this. I can hear your thoughts you know. ‘Turning this into a thing for the people?’ I can hear you laughing at me.”   
Enjolras pauses for a while, crying onto Grantaire. “Look, just sorry. I’m sorry, and Jehan’ll tell me this isn’t true, but I’ve got to be some of the reason you’re here. You think I fucking hate you, and want this don’t you? I mean… Grantaire you mean the world to me, and I’m so awful. We fight all the time. We shouldn’t. Grantaire get it through your thick skull; I don’t hate you. If I hate anyone right now, it’s me, and that’s because I don’t know how to sit here and watch you die; so do me a favour; I know you don’t owe me one, still listening to you thinking thank you very much, but please just do me one; don’t let me watch you dying, let me watch you get better, because if anyone deserves to get better, it’s you. God, this sounded a lot less cliché in my head, let me start over… Grantaire if you wake up I’m going to make you better if I die trying. I’m not expecting magic or anything, but I’m expecting to see you smile at least once more. A real smile you know, not your bullshit grin or something sarcastic. And if I can’t make you smile, Jehan’ll help me. You’re going to be okay, I promise.”   
Enjolras took a few moments to collect himself, before he’d gone out and got yelled at by his absolute best friend. And now, he was looking at Grantaire’s best friend sleep for the first time in two and a half days {Combeferre was definitely not keeping count and worrying about it with Enjolras} and he sighed, placing a hand on the poet. He looked small like this. Normally, Jehan was small, but he looked like he could handle himself. Here, he looked like he couldn’t take care of himself, and like he would need someone to support him, because his puppy died.   
No, Grantaire was more than his puppy, Grantaire was his brother. Grantaire could tell him everything he’d ever need to know about anything, knowing where everything good was, and Jehan could keep Grantaire from failing out of school. Grantaire had taught the little poet how to shoot up for the first time {they said they didn’t do that anymore though} and Jehan had taught Grantaire the best ways to keep himself from passing out from it. Really, they were artists, the both of them. Jehan was one with his words and Grantaire with his brush. They both slept and god, they both looked so meek when they normally were strong {No one but his close friends would believe Jehan was strong granted} and it broke Enjolras’ heart of stone.   
He pet the sleeping poet’s hair and sighed, waiting for his best friend to come back with a soda. He sighed, taking the chair on by his legs, setting them on his lap. Normally ‘Ferre sat by Jehan’s head so he didn’t want to take up his seat. Thinking was making his head hurt. He just wanted to feel like this wasn’t the end.   
Combeferre came back mumbling something about how ridiculous the price of food in the vending machines were, handing him a caffeine free diet coke {the last thing Enjolras needed was caffeine after six p.m. he’d never get to sleep} and held a regular coke and a sprite, one for him and one for Jehan, who thankfully remained asleep through Enjolras’ pondering. He could probably sleep through the entire apocalypse if he wanted. “Feeling okay?”  
“No.” Enjolras muttered. “I’m not okay.”  
“And that’s okay. Hey, I’m going to go into Grantaire’s room for a little bit, probably take a little time to collect myself. Also Feuilly and Joly and Bossuet are showing up later. I told Bossuet he could look at Grantaire through the window, and he seemed content with that. Don’t want him tripping over the wires, he’d never forgive himself.”  
Enjolras smiled. “You really do think of everyone who’s not yourself, don’t you? Alright, and no need to ask, I’ve got it. Watch Jehan. When does he want to be awoken, and when should he be awoken?” Jehan had unreal expectations of how long he could go without sleep {something abound in Combeferre’s closest friends}.  
“He said ‘wake me up if they so much as change the channel in his room’ because he’s that worried.” Combeferre rolled his eyes. “Wake him up if more than one frenzied doctor runs into his room.”  
“Got it. On a scale of Joly to Jehan’s panic attacks, how frenzied should the doctors look for me to wake him?”  
“Let’s go with a solid Bossuet when he’s lost something.” Combeferre told Enjolras. It seemed to be enough for the chief, and Combeferre was off, for his own private time with Grantaire.  
It wasn’t as emotional as his best friend’s speech, and it wasn’t as rambly as his boyfriend’s speech, but Combeferre’s speech was distinctly Combeferre. “You’re probably tired of all of us barging in while you’re trying to sleep; I’d appreciate it if you woke up you know, but I’m not going to… I mean, if you don’t I’ll be devastated… But sometimes I mean… There’s got to be a better way for things like this, but it’s not your fault you don’t know a better way. Hell, I’m supposedly the smart one of our ragtag group of misfits, and I have no fucking clue what else there was. Thank you though, Grantaire. For all you do for Jehan, and for Enjolras. Hell, Enjolras told me about you forcing him to bed. And I can’t say I agree with your methods, but I can say I agree with your intentions. They’re always good, most of the time less than self serving. You’re absolutely insane by the way. And I’m sorry.” Combeferre adjusted his glasses here. “I’m sorry you felt this was the only way… I don’t have much else to say.”   
And just as eloquently as he walked in, Combeferre walked out.  
 


	4. When Words Fail, Build a Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Combeferre and Enjolras have a sleepover with Jehan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Mikayla, is your title based off of songs from Shrek the Musical? I’m glad you asked reader, of course it is! There’s another question for me? “Mikayla have you decided what happens to Grantaire?” Good question, and probably not. That is, I probably haven’t decided, because I’m more indecisive than I am pretty. “Any triggers?” Yes, reader, there’s a very sad Jehan which breaks my heart and also alcoholism

“Jehan, it’s time to wake up.” Combeferre’s voice was soft to wake the other. Jehan had been asleep in the hospital for about three hours, and nothing had happened. “Jehan, I think it’s in your best interest to go home.” Combeferre told him. “Which means you’re going home, no ifs, ands or buts, and I’ve brought reinforcement to make sure you do.” Combeferre told him. “I’ve called your parents, and me and Enjolras are going to your house.” Jehan looked at he was about to sleep, taking a moment to take it in, as he had just woken up. “No, don’t say anything Jehan. You need to sleep in a bed, not a fucking hospital chair.”  
“B-but Grantaire.”  
“Again, reinforcements. Courfeyrac is going to stay here with Marius and they’re call us the second something happens, then inform Grantaire you were dragged against your will, which I will arrange if you don’t come quietly.” Jehan whimpered. “I’m worried about you Jehan.”  
“I’m worried about him.”  
“Which is why it does you know good. How would you feel if the roles were reversed,” Combeferre didn’t like the way Courfeyrac had started this sentence. “And the first thing you saw was Grantaire looking like absolute shit, which, love you Jehan, but you look awful right now. I think you’d stop worrying about getting better, and start fretting over him. So you should worry about you, for Grantaire.” Courfeyrac explained.  
“Come on Jehan, me and ‘Ferre’ll walk you home.” Enjolras told him. Combeferre picked Jehan out of the seat, but Jehan squirmed out of his arms.  
“I’m perfectly capable of walking… Before you lock me under house arrest can you get me some goddamn good ‘Ferre?” Obviously no one remembered Jehan was not the person to be with after he had been woken up.  
“Sorry, sorry.” Jehan and Combeferre had set up a rule that Combeferre shouldn’t coddle Jehan if he thought something Jehan couldn’t handle was happening. Jehan considered the carrying coddling.  
“I know. I want food.” Jehan was smaller than usual, having had Combeferre’s jacket thrown over him, and at some point Bahorel must’ve shown up, because he had his jacket too.   
“Come on, I’ve promised you hot chocolate. I’ll even try and make it like Grantaire does…” Enjolras raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Maybe Combeferre was condoning Jehan and Grantaire’s behaviour, but it was for a good cause. Jehan desperately needed comfort. Enjolras sighed and lead them to Combeferre’s car {soccer mum van, whatever you say to describe it. It would be unfair to not point out, ‘Ferre was basically the soccer mum of their friends, always everyone’s ride to and fro} while Combeferre held Jehan’s hand, the only comfort the sleepy boy would accept.   
“Jehan please don’t think we’re punishing you or anything, it’s just-”  
“No, I know. I can’t take care of myself on my own, because obviously I’m going to break ‘Ferre.” He wasn’t bitter. No, really. Just absolutely furious, because his best friend could wake up at any minute and all he wanted was to be there when that happened, and his boyfriend was acting like it was something stupid and he should go home and not act like this could be the last time he ever sees Grantaire. “And obviously, it’s not like these aren’t the moments between life and death. If he dies and I’m not there, I’m never going to forgive you.” He turned to Enjolras. “Or you. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you.”  
Combeferre placed a hand on his shoulder. “Jehan do you really want him to see you like this?”  
“Bruised and battered and completely fucking worried? Where had he not seen that before?” Jehan crossed his arms. “Look, let’s just go home, because you promised me Grantaire’s hot chocolate and you’re gonna fucking make it for me.” He opened the door to the middle seat, slammed it shut and then crawled in the very back, curling up across the two seats back there.  
This shouldn’t disturb Combeferre as much as it did because he went straight for the back instead of sitting next to him at the front. It shouldn’t have turned the pillar of comfort into a kicked puppy. No, it shouldn’t have done that to him. Instead he should be worried because Jehan was an wreck, both physically and emotional exhausted. It shouldn’t have worried him most of all that Jehan told him he’d never be forgiven if Grantaire died without Jehan there.  
This was why Enjolras had really been dragged along. Combeferre did well comforting, it was what he was best at. But he’d never admit when he needed comfort himself, because everyone else was so very screwed in this situation. Grantaire needed someone to be there for him. Jehan needed someone to tell him it was time to go, no matter how much he fought about it in the hospital parking lot. Even Enjolras, needed someone to call him on his bullshit. All ‘Ferre needed {so he says} was someone to comfort. However, just as he could call Enjolras on his bullshit, Enjolreas would call him on his.   
Enjolras put a hand on Combeferre’s shoulder and sighed. “He’ll apologize, give him twenty minutes. He’s not awake yet, and he’s concerned.”  
“Right, right. Okay well he’s nearly had two panic attacks today. Sit in the middle and make sure there’s not a-“  
“He needs his space. He doesn’t want to be looked on as fragile, which you are right now. Which, is okay. But he doesn’t want that. So give him a few feet of space.” Enjolras put his other hand on Combeferre’s other shoulder.   
“Right, right. Alright, let’s get out of here, oui?”  
“Oui.” Enjolras got in the passenger’s side, and Combeferre the driver’s side, and they were off.   
Jehan, for the majority of the trip was silent. He could be crying, because he cried one of two ways- loud or silent. There was no in between with him. “I’m sorry Jehan. You haven’t slept more than three hours as of late. I know you’re worried about him, but the rest of us are worried about you too.”  
“Don’t be.”  
“I know we shouldn’t be, but you’re hurting. And that’s okay. We’re all hurting, sick with worry.” Combeferre stopped the car quickly at a red light. “I’m sorry for ‘fragiling’ you.” It’s something that upset Jehan a lot, when he got treated like he was fragile and nothing else. And he already knew what his parents would do when he showed up with his band of misfits.  
Finally they made it to Jehan’s and Jehan crawled out of the car a little more of his regular reserved self. “I’m sorry for yelling. I won’t hate y-you if he… It’s not your fault.” He told Combeferre, grabbing his hand and squeezing hard. Of course Jehan could do things his own, he had a grip that could leave bruises, and a bite far worse that his bark.  
“It’s okay Jehan.” Combeferre pulled him into a hug, and Enjolras cleared his throat. They broke their hug, both men blushing, and Jehan went to hug Enjolras {which wasn’t surprising} and apologize.  
“I didn’t m-mean to… It’s not your fault.” And that broke Enjolras’ heart, because it was his fault. At least some of it had to be. You couldn’t say such horrible things to Grantaire and expect him to be okay. Of course, Enjolras didn’t say any of that to Jehan, because Jehan would tell him it wasn’t his fault again. Jehan was quick to get rid of doubts in your self-worth.   
“Come on, I owe you hot chocolate.” Combeferre told the boy, taking his hand. “You want some Enjolras?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Enjolras felt even more strongly about hating what Jehan and Grantaire did.  
“Yes.” Perhaps that was the most alarming thing of the evening, though no one said anything about it.  
The three went in and were attacked by a bone crushing hug from Jehan’s mother. “Is he okay love?” Madame Prouvaire asked, pulling off.  
“We don’t know mum.” Jehan told her. “We’re going to my room and I’m probably going to pass out.” Jehan looked meek as he normally did, his face red as usual.  
“Alright love. You two be good to him, alright?” She told the other two sternly.   
“Mum, I’m not one of your china dolls. I’m fine.” Jehan sighed and walked off to his room, sitting down on the floor by the full length mirror. “Can you hand me the brush on the bookshelf Enjolras?” he asked. Jehan’s room was actually a mess, but he seemed to know where everything was. “Thank you.” He told Enjolras.   
Gently, Jehan started to brush his hair. It calmed him for some reason. Combeferre, who wanted to help his boyfriend got on his knees and took the brush from Jehan and started to brush carefully. Jehan did not have sensitive hair, so he wasn’t too careful, just enough he could ebb out the knots. If one were watching you could visibly see Jehan relax on his boyfriend. As the kinks in his hair {you get a lot sitting in a hospital two and a half days} were worked out, so was Jehan’s own tightness, from worrying and wallowing.   
“You’re a good man you know you are ‘Ferre. Better than me.”  
“That’s not true.”  
“Come off it you two. You’re both good for different reasons.” Enjolras interjected.   
“Come on, I was promised hot chocolate ‘Ferre.” Jehan whined.  
“I know, I know.” Combeferre got up and made three hot chocolates- the best thing about Jehan’s parents was they let him keep a mini fridge and microwave in his room. Oh the ways to spoil your only boy rotten.  
Combeferre made them and handed them out, grabbing the bottle he knew was hidden under Jehan’s bed of bourbon. “Okay, how much do you pour in?” he asked, because he truly had no clue how this worked.  
“Just a few teaspoons.” Jehan told him. “Thank you for doing this for me… I know you guys hate it, but just…” he blushed. “Thank you.” He took the hot chocolate from Combeferre and downed it all slowly, savouring it.  
Enjolras took one reluctantly. “Jehan, we’re not playing to get hammered okay? One cup.” He told him. “I mean, me and ‘Ferre have no clue how your parents don’t catch you, we’re not as good at hiding as Grantaire.”  
Jehan sighed. “It’s fine. Sorry about yelling at you two. S’not like I’m the only one in the whole world suffering because… No ifs, ands, or buts we’re going tomorrow right? I mean, what you’re doing is awfully sweet and I appreciate it… Let’s get pizza okay?” Jehan had started breathing hard, and Combeferre was right next to him. Jehan blushed. “S-sorry. I’m fine. I’m better than fine… Feeling artsy, but I can’t write… Me and Grantaire have artsy traditions… Can’t break tradition…”  
“Jehan stop talking, you’re going to ramble yourself into a panic attack love. Come here.” Jehan did as Combeferre told and walked to him. Combeferre attached himself and walked Jehan over to the bottom bunk. {Of course Jehan had bunk beds, who else would?} “Now breathe. Will you breathe Jehan? You can breathe, it’s okay to breathe.”  
“Breathing is definitely encouraged.” Enjolras interjected. He was watching, not wanting to ruin the moment, but wanting to be known to help. “You two lie down, and I’ll get some pizza from the fridge.” Jehan always had half a pizza in his fridge, because he and Grantaire could never finish a full one.  
“I do-don’t think we have any pizza.” Jehan admitted. “I was at Grantaire’s two weeks, and uh… Tell mum to order some, please.”   
Enjolras nodded and went out to talk to Jehan’s parents, seeing this as an opportunity to get them food, and to let Combeferre and Jehan have space. When Enjolras left, Combeferre cuddled onto the bottom bunk with Jehan, wrapping his arms around him.   
“You know I adore you so much.” Jehan told him, turning so he was facing Combeferre’s chest. “I’m sorry that I’m being so awful about this.”  
“There’s nothing wrong with how you’re acting, it’s perfectly okay.”  
“Only you would say that.” Jehan curled up closer. “Thank you for understanding.” He yawned.   
By the time Enjolras came back in to find what they wanted on their pizza, he had to wake them up.  
 


	5. There Will Be Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn about Grantaire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Next to Normal, good and sad times.

Perhaps it would be better if we were to know what happened before Grantaire did his deed. We should start out saying it was not any one thing that upset him. He could handle any of these things if they came up only by themselves. Alas, they all happened so close in sequence, that he’s not sure what tipped it because they all happened. Perhaps it was all of it that went overboard. Grantaire had thought many times he would be better off if he just got rid of himself, and his friends wouldn’t miss him. He thought he was right.  
It started with their meeting of Les Amis. It was mostly a college group, but not exclusively, seeing as their current leader was Enjolras, a high school senior. Enjolras truly was the only reason Grantaire had made himself show up {the friends the only reason he stayed} and this particular meeting had an angry Enjolras. It was in a café where Grantaire was allowed to drink {he was eighteen and it was legal, but it wasn’t as though he hadn’t gotten drinks as a seventeen year old} and he sat in the back, occasionally interjecting an opinion. Okay, more than occasionally; this was perhaps why Enjolras kicked him out. He’d been snapped at more than once at these meetings, but he’d never been kicked out before, which was a good kick to his already shattered self-confidence. He thought he was okay to talk, but Enjolras only saw him as being an ass.  
And then Jehan told him he’d be moving back with his parents soon. Grantaire wouldn’t admit it, but it hurt him to know that parents meant more to Jehan then Grantaire, who held his hair when he threw up most of the alcohol he drank, or the guy he got high with, his supposed best friend. He wouldn’t feel so bad if things hadn’t already gone so badly for him lately {it didn’t help no one had asked him if he was okay about getting kicked out.  
Then, there were the “Why can’t you” stuff he got from adults. “Love, why can’t you be more like the Prouvaire boy. He’s so nice.” said his mother. “Grantaire why can’t you be more like Combeferre, a model student, always turns in work.” said his teacher. “Grantaire why can’t you act more like an adult like Enjolras.” said another one. Everyone kept denying Grantaire the thought that he was okay, that he was enough. And maybe there was the final straw, because everything got worse.  
Grantaire always had poor self esteem. And anyone poking fun at him made his self esteem worse, even some sixteen year old he didn’t know. When the child called him something stupid he felt his confidence plummet, and felt awful. He always felt awful really, he just wanted to feel like everything wasn’t so bad.  
So maybe that’s a reason Grantaire saw what he did a suitable option. And he did it, and it’s not a choice he can take back.  
He didn’t take into account any of his friends would miss him. He didn’t think his own parents would miss him. And he knew he was being selfish, but maybe this once he should be allowed to be selfish. Because he was always so caring, he cared about all his friends, but never himself, so maybe he should be allowed to be selfish just this once. Because Grantaire hurt so much, and he just wanted the hurt to stop.  
So he made it stop with a handful of pill and half a bottle of whiskey.  
Well he hopes he stopped his hurting. Because he knew when he did it he was going to be in a tidal wave of more pain if he didn’t do the deed, because he knew it would hurt his friends, maybe his family. He knew he’d see Jehan looking over him and maybe crying, maybe not demanding he get up. He knew Bahorel had a big test he couldn’t fail and all his friends had so much on their plates he hoped they didn’t stop just because he was being whiny.  
And then, at three AM, on his fifth day in the hospital, he woke up.  
And of course, he was surrounded by friendly faces. There were faces of tired, worried friends that he never wanted to worry about seeing. It seemed everyone knew today was the day {or more likely his martyr friends had never left the hospital room} and gathered. Combeferre had Jehan on his lap, probably because there was no room for him to be anywhere else and Combeferre was already asleep. Bahorel was sitting on a table, Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta were leaning on the wall and Courfeyrac and Marius sitting on the floor by his bed. Enjolras was standing, or rather pacing.  
Jehan was perhaps the first to notice his eyes open {perhaps because he was looking right at the cynic, whereas Enjolras was looking anywhere but} and quickly jumped off Combeferre, nearly tripping over Marius and Courfeyrac. “Sorry.” He told them. “No I’m not, god you’re awake you’re awake, they said you might not wake and…” Jehan took a breath, not wanting the first thing that Grantaire saw being a panic attack.  
“Grantaire?” Enjolras asked, looking at the man. “Grantaire!” Thus everyone got up and ran {manly running, it definitely looked manly} to the bed, crowding him.  
“Uh… Hi…” was all he could procure. He looked at the others and smiled. “Good to see you guys…” he told them smiling. “I’m uh… Sorry… Really tired.” He laughed a little and the room laughed. It seemed the first laugh they laughed in five days.  
Jehan and Enjolras were closest to Grantaire, since they were first up. Not wanting to treat him like he was fragile, but wanting to respect his space, Jehan asked Grantaire for a hug. Grantaire forced himself to sit up and hug Jehan. He owed Jehan at least that. “I’m sorry.” He told the other.  
“Don’t be sorry.” Jehan told him, hugging him tightly. “I don’t want you to be sorry.”  
“R.” Enjolras cut in.  
“Enjolras.” He told the other.  
It seemed that as soon as he woke up the room woke up.


	6. Chapter six; Everything Else Go Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire gives Enjolras a heavy dose of self-deprecation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me forever to update, but here's some sads

“You don’t hate me right?” Grantaire had asked Jehan when the group had dwindled down. All that remained of the friends was Courfeyrac, Combeferre, Jehan and Enjolras. Jehan, the kind soul he was, pulled the other into a gentle hug- earlier he had cried because Grantaire woke up, he was awake and he was okay, so his eyes were still stained red.   
“Don’t be silly. I love you. You’re my best friend, and god I’m so glad you’re okay.” He let go of his friend but was still smiling. “Well I mean that you’re alive… Are you okay?” In his delight upon his friend being alive, he forgot to see how alive he felt.  
“Yes, I’m the picture of health Prouvaire.” He rolled his eyes. Jehan hugged him anyway, because he adored Grantaire, and god Grantaire was okay.  
Just than a doctor came in. “Well Monsieur Grantaire, seems like your vitals are back to normal… We’re going to keep you over night, but tomorrow your parents can take you home, okay?”  
“SHIT!” It wasn’t like Prouvaire to get so upset.   
“S’wrong, Jehan?” Combeferre was at his side already, so he didn’t have to go to the other.  
“Fuck, I never called your parents and they don’t even know an-”  
Combeferre took a breath. “Taken care of Jehan. They know. Don’t worry about it love.”  
Grantaire smiled- the best thing for him was someone had taken care of Enjolras and Jehan- he needed his friends to be okay. “Combeferre’s got your back.” He said from the bed. “You guys should probably go home- it’s late or something.”  
“Not really- I just want to be here with you mon ami an-”Combeferre cut him off.  
“Jehan, you and I need to talk. In the hall.” Combeferre took him to the hall, giving Grantaire a knowing look.  
“I should get going though- School’s in one hour… I promised to bring your school work to you and stuff, and me and ‘Ferre are gonna tutor you- not now or anything… See you.” He gave Grantaire’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze, and snuck off.  
That’s how Grantaire ended up in the room alone with Enjolras.  
“Bet you think I’ve got a taste of what I deserve?”  
“N-no!” Enjolras stuttered- of course he didn’t think that. This was not what he wanted at all. “C-can we talk? Because you have all these opinions about me, and they aren’t all that true, and I’m sorry for making you think t-that… But Grantaire-”  
“Enjolras don’t do the stupid thing you do where you blame yourself because I can’t be fixed-” Grantaire started.   
“I don’t want to fix you! Well, I do want to fix you- but it’s not about fixing you. It’s about making sure you don’t want to- I ean you should’ve seen Jehan, he’s been a complete wreck without you an-”  
“I know, I’m a fuck up!” Grantaire hollered, his blood at a boil. “I don’t deserve a friend as good as Prouvaire, or whatever the hell we have. I know! I don’t deserve any of it! And I appreciate the reminders, really, but I’ve tired. I’m so tired of feeling like a fuck up you know? And I thought- ‘Well hey, if you rid the world of one stupid drunken fuck up, you can start doing good.’ And I want to do good Enjolras, but I’m not a do-gooder. Because it’s not working, I can’t do good without doing bad. Just- Enjolras you wouldn’t get it. All you think of is doing good, but I’m not that kind of person. I can’t think about doing good all the time, because I’m nowhere near as good as you. I just look at me, and I see what’s really there- vile, horrible filth. Idiocy. A stupid drunkard who doesn’t have even a dream to rely on. I’m so unlike you, in every way.”  
The room was the quiet. Only the sound of Grantaire’s breathing, and all the monitors hooked to him could be heard. Enjolras had no clue how to combat such words of hate- self-deprecation was not something he knew how to make go away. He just wanted Grantaire to be happy.  
“Listen to me- you’re so great. And- god Grantaire, I’m no good at this. I can’t magically make you feel better.” He told the other frowning. “Look, Grantaire… C-can I ask you something?”  
“What?” He half snapped. His eyes were dead.  
Enjolras softened his voice. “I’m sorry for doing this to you- making you feel so bad. Please don’t tell me I didn’t have anything to do with it, I know I did. I might not have been your reason, but I was one. And I’m sorry. I’m going to make it up to you.” He promised the other. “If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll make it up you.” And he meant it.  
In the hall, Combeferre and Jehan were arguing.  
“You have class later.”  
“I’m not going today.”  
“Jehan, I know you’re worried. Were all worried b-”  
“What would you do if it was Enjolras?”   
“Excuse me?” Combeferre looked at his boyfriend dumbstruck.  
“What. Would. You. Do. If. It. Was. Enjolras? You know full well what I mean. If Enjolras had something horrible happen to himself- something so bad that you were afraid he’d die? Would you unravel, and stay with him and make sure he was okay? Don’t tell me you wouldn’t, because I know you would do the exact same for your best friend! So I’m staying, and I love you, but there is nothing you can say that’ll make me change my mind.” He told the other, pressing a kiss to his nose.  
“You stubborn boy, I swear.” He pushed his glasses up and pinched the bridge of his nose.  
“So you won’t fuss?” Jehan grinned a little.  
“I swear Jehan, I’ll always fuss about you.”  
“But you won’t fuss about me leaving?”  
“You’re lucky how much I love you.” He told the other. Jehan grinned and pressed a kiss to his cheek again- it was five thirty in the morning, and they were tired, but they were so happy.   
Jehan led the other back to the room, but stayed just outside when he heard shouting, signaling to Combeferre to do the same. They listened in on the conversation and waited- this was starting to worry them.  
“Look, Enjolras, it’s not you-”  
“I know it’s not ‘my fault’ but I know I have some of the blame Grantaire! Can you please, just please let me make this up to you. I want to help you. Not make you better- I don’t like the way that sounds. It sounds like I can wave a wand and fix what hurts. If I would, I could. But I want to make you want to be better. Please?”  
Grantaire sighed. “Fine.”  
Enjolras pulled him into a hug, which Grantaire accepted.


	7. Chapter seven; The Guys of The Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Best friends are fleeting and needed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N; Alrighty, so I’ve been kind of a lazy fuck about this, but this is seven! Okay, it’s pretty sad, pretty sad. Triggers are probably just general sads and a lot of self deprecation. But it also has Papa Courf for his boys

After hearing the conversation they weren’t supposed to hear, Jehan and Combeferre waited a while, then Combeferre took Enjolras home, since he was no longer allowed to worry for Jehan, he shifted his worry to Enjolras. They left to go to Coufeyrac’s, and Jehan and Grantaire stayed together to catch up.  
“So Enjolras tells me you were kinda worried.” Grantaire said softly.  
“Kind of worried does not even start to describe how I was- Grantaire you’re my best friend, and I thought you would’ve died.”  
“Yeah, yeah you did. So what happened exactly, after mum and dad had me brought here?” Grantaire asked.  
“Um, it was weird. I uh-” Grantaire worried when Jehan got like this- his cheeks dusted with blush, and his voice stuttered, different than his reading voice, and his angry voice and especially his regular voice. It meant Jehan had something he didn’t want to share that’d make someone feel bad. “Grantaire, your parents didn’t find you. I did.” Grantaire’s heart tore a little at the words- he didn’t want to cause pain to so many people.  
“W-well what happened? After that?”   
“Okay, so… Are you sure you want to hear this?” he asked softly. Grantaire nodded. “Right, so I went over, and s-saw you… I told your p-parents, and I stayed at the hospital, and then ‘Ferre and Enjolras had a fit and they had me go home.” He told his friend. “And Courfeyrac, he made sure everyone wasn’t going to get sick staying here so long. Joly even came by himself a few times! Musichetta told me he was really worried coming up, but he really wanted to, and I’m so proud of him, you know?” he told the other. “Marius got really nervous, he started throwing up. But he was okay- one of the nurses talked to him, and she was really nice…” he told him. “I’m gonna stop talking.” He told the other.  
“No keep going, please.” Grantaire wanted to hear all the pain he caused- he was really a masochist, so it seemed, the way he kept listening to everything. He wasn’t Enjolras, he knew he couldn’t fix all of it, but he wanted to at least hear it. “How’re you?”  
“Not nearly as bad as you are.”  
“So, how bad is that? I know you, you don’t want to share your hurt.”   
“I want to talk to you Grantaire. I want to talk about how you’re feel-” he cut himself off. “Unless you really don’t.”  
“I really don’t.” Grantaire told him. Jehan held out his arms and pulled the other into a hug. “Look, you have cl-”  
“Don’t tell me to leave. Please, everyone keeps telling me I should leave, but I don’t want to leave, I just want to stay here and talk to you. Please Grantaire!” Jehan whined, holding his friend in a killer hug, making him groan. Squeaking, Jehan let Grantaire go and blushed. “Sorry!”  
“Look, sorry, I didn’t mean to… I didn’t mean to worry you so much.” Grantaire said quietly, pulling the littler man into a tentative hug.   
“Are you feeling better than when you woke up?”  
“You fucking bastard. Of course I do, I’ve been showered in you for the last few hours.”   
That sounded more like Grantaire.  
“So long as you appreciate it.” Jehan teased, pressing an affectionate kiss to his forehead. He looked far more tense than usual.  
“You’re not gonna have a panic attack, are you?” Grantaire asked, ready to forget all about his own problems, and help the poet through one.  
Jehan stared dumbfounded at him- and then he started laughing. It was Grantaire’s turn to stare, because why was Jehan laughing? He didn’t understand it. Jehan usually didn’t laugh, at things he didn’t think funny, and this definitely wasn’t funny. “Prouvaire?” he asked.  
“Grantaire you’re sitting in a hospital bed and you’re worried I’m going to have a panic attack, when I have one practically every day, yet you claim you’re nothing but bad. You’re wrong. So very wrong.” Jehan hugged his friend. “Every day you show me ‘hey I’m better than I say’ and you can’t see it. And you’re so pessimistic and cynical, and sometimes, I’m pessimistic and cynical, but you’re always like that- I don’t understand how you can hate yourself so much when you’re so wonderful. Really, I don’t.” Jehan understood how someone could hate themselves- he’d been there, he’d cried over not being good enough, but never had he been as far gone as Grantaire, who spent every single day hurting, spent every hour seeing himself through the glass of a wine bottle; distorted and broken.  
It just so happened that Jehan would not put up with his pain- Grantaire didn’t deserve to hurt as much as he did. “You get some sleep Grantaire, please? It’s been a hard day. Your parents can get you tomorrow, I’ll be here with you.” He told the other, kissing his forehead.  
Perhaps here, is where Grantaire felt like the biggest idiot- his best friend cared. Jehan cared about every living soul, no matter what it seemed, but he cared about Grantaire, a concept Grantaire can’t begin to understand, and never will try. Why would anyone care for him? He’s just a drunkard, a boy who could hardly find the time to care for himself, but he was nothing without his friends, and occasionally, his friends would delude themselves into thinking they were lesser without him. It was touching for the poor cynic.  
“Goodnight Prouvaire.”   
“Goodnight Grantaire.” It seemed almost routine- a mundane routine, from when Grantaire and Jehan had lived together, and it felt like they were back in Grantaire’s room- Grantaire had enough drugs in his system from the IV tube that he could be- and it was enough almost to make them forget about what they felt.  
Prouvaire, was overwhelmed. Because now Grantaire was back, and he’d truly have to face the consequences. Because, he wasn’t a good enough friend for Grantaire. Obviously, Grantaire felt like it. He wouldn’t have hurt himself so much, if Jehan could’ve been the best friend he needed. If anyone could’ve been the best friend he needed. This wasn’t a concern he’d express, at least not to anyone but Combeferre, but it was how he felt.   
Grantaire felt like a pretty shitty friend as well. He’d put Jehan in a lot of pain, at least that’s what Enjolras had told him. Jean Prouvaire deserved a best friend who wasn’t half as much a fuck up as Grantaire. That’s all you are, a big fuck up.  
And what of Combeferre and Enjolras? How were the boyfriend and whatever Enjolras was to Grantaire?  
Oh they had gone home together, along with Courfeyrac. Combeferre’s house wasn’t big and expensive like Enjolras, but Combeferre’s house had things that would be comforting. Like homemade cookies. Like breakfast in the morning, and a smiling mother ready to keep them company, and let them stay awake late.   
“My boys, what’re we doing?” Courfeyrac asked, attempting to write his paper before it was due the next day.  
“Well, I’m studying at ‘Ferre’s house before my math exam.” Enjolras told the other sighing. “We’re not going to get any sleep tonight, are we?”  
Combeferre rolled his eyes. “Well it’s not like you sleep any way.” He told him.  
“Yeah, but you’re already getting angry. You should turn in.” Courfeyrac tried.  
“I have an entomology paper due tomorrow.” He reminded him. Combeferre was already taking college level classes. “Don’t you have a Marius to calm down?”   
“Marius can take care of himself for one night. You two need someone.” Courfeyrac told them.  
“No we don’t!” the two said at once, like children.  
“Oh see, I know this kind of shit. After all, who knows you two better? No one.” Courfeyrac told them. “Enjolras, you’re beyond worried. I know you. You. Care. About. Him. And being an official boyfriend expert I can say one hundred percent, he cares about you.” Courf told him. “And ‘Ferre, your boyfriend will be fine. Don’t think for a moment he hasn’t told me about the coddling rule, I know because everyone coddles him.” He told the other. “Call him in the morning. Okay?”  
“He’s going to skip class for Grantaire.”   
“And that’s okay! I know for a fact you’d skip class just as well if it were me or Enjolras.” Everyone liked to leave Courfeyrac out of their three way best friendship, but Courfeyrac held Enjolras and Combeferre together, especially in times like this. Without Courfeyrac, Enjolras and Combeferre would have been too prideful after their ‘arguments’ to talk to one another again. The kind you hear from mummy and daddy where ‘we’re not fighting! This is an argument!’ and you know their fighting, but they don’t want to admit it. No, Courfeyrac was the glue that kept their friendship so tight. “So maybe call him in the afternoon? We can all go out after school, and visit Grantaire! I’ll drive you two and Mari and Jehan.”  
“Jehan’ll already be there. He’s not gonna leave Grantaire’s side.” Combeferre told him.  
“Okay, then I’ll drive you two and Mari. It’ll be okay. After math tests and edamamology-”  
“Entomology.” ‘Ferre corrected.  
“I’ll drive you. Now get your asses in bed.” He grabbed the Entomology book and Enjolras’ math book, and put them in the others’ bags and throwing blankets at them both. “Bed.”  
“You’re so sweet.” Combeferre muttered.  
“Thanks dad.” Enjolras grumbled.   
“Sleep tight sweetheart.” He teased, laughing at the boys’ groans.


	8. Chapter eight: My Boys and My Boys' Boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Courfeyrac helps his friends through trying times.

The next day, school would not go by fast enough- Jean was hardly missed. A few comments about the little poet from people who quickly found themselves in fights with Combeferre were all that was said. Everyone had a different rumour about Grantaire, and those people found themselves in fights with Enjolras.  
“Some of our best students; Enjolras, Combeferre what has gotten into you boys?” One of the teachers asked, and Courfeyrac, who always waited for his friends smiled at the teacher.  
“Enjolras and Combeferre are boys missing their boys- R’s in the hospital and Jean Prouvaire is in pretty bad shape about it- poor kid. Anyway, my boys are pretty upset, they don’t sleep well.” Courfeyrac threw his arms around them both. “I’ll keep them in check till they got their boys back.” The teacher gave the boys a sympathetic look, and told them to calm down added a touch of “in these trifle times” advice. Combeferre and Enjolras both thought it was bullshit, but Courfeyrac thanked the teacher and brought the boys to out of the school. “Alright my boys, time to pick my man up from college and then we’re going to the hospital!”  
Courfeyrac’s car was quiet and Enjoras found himself shaking. “He’s okay, I promise you.” He told the boy. “Grantaire’s always okay.”  
“No, we just like to tell ourselves he is.” That stung, because all three knew it was true. They remained in silence, Courfeyrac’s “boys” letting him and his “man” have front when they finally did pick up Marius.  
Marius knew it was all wrong. He knew Grantaire shouldn’t have seen the sadness he had. Marius knew Jehan shouldn’t be so worried, or he’d break- the sensitive soul that was Jean Prouvaire worried almost as much as Courfeyrac did.  
“Marius my love, what’s on your mind?” Courfeyrac asked, when the silence was too much.  
“I don’t know- do you think he’ll really be okay?” He was whispering, because the two in the back were noisily chatting about something {probably their boys} so they wouldn’t hear the two in the front if they were quiet.  
“I think that he’ll be better than you think; but R changes with the tide, so there’s no way to know.”  
“We ought to just convince Enjolras he cares about R.”  
Courfeyrac laughed; a wonderful idea, to get the fearless leader to admit he cared about the poor boy who sat on the hospital bed. It was a wonderful thought, but sometimes Enjolras had his head so far up his ass he forgot that his special brand of concern didn’t go over so well with everyone.  
At the hospital, Grantaire’s parents and Jean were just helping him get ready to go. His parents were signing waivers and he was sitting with Jehan who was absently playing with his hair. “You know I adore you don’t you R?” Jehan asked.  
“Yeah, ‘course. I-” he stopped talking, looking up at the four friends coming in. “Hey guys.”  
Enjolras looked at him. “Hey R.”   
Combeferre walked over to Jean and hugged him tight. “Hey you.” Jean sighed softly.   
“Hey you.” He smiled a little bit. “We’re fixing to leave soon as R’s parents finish talking to the doctors.”  
“How’re you doing R?” Combeferre asked.  
“Feeling pretty shitty, but hey. I’m alive and well.” He rolled his eyes and Enjolras practically winced.  
“You don’t look to well.” Enjolras said softly.  
“Good to know.” Grantaire sighed.  
“Can I talk to you- alone?” Enjolras asked quietly. Jean raised an eyebrow, but his boyfriend pulled him to the side so they could talk. “How are you? Be honest.” He said, sitting down next to Grantaire.  
“Disgusting.”   
Enjolras put a hand on his shoulder and Grantaire flinched. Sighing, he pulled away. “I’m sorry. At least you’re going home today.”  
“You sound like that’s a good thing.”  
“It is. You know you’re terribly good at living.”  
“That’s bullshit. Not dying, yeah. I can do that. Living? Nope, I’m a fucking piece of shit.”  
Enjolras pulled the other close into a hug. “Please don’t say that about yourself. Please don’t. You’re wonderful Grantaire. A good… Friend.”  
“Only a friend?”  
The nosy Courfeyrac was giving Enjolras a look that told him to tell R exactly how he felt. So he tried to.  
“I… R I don’t think of you as only a friend, but I don’t know what I think of you as... I think of you as beautiful.”  
“Beautiful? Ever the optimist Enjolras.”  
“You are beautiful.” Enjolras frowned and put his hand back on R’s shoulder. This time he didn’t pull away. “I mean it R- and you’re funny, and when you aren’t sad your smile lights up the world.  
By now everyone else in the room was pretending not to pay attention, but totally paying attention. “You are beautiful, and I am a worm.”  
“No- god, don’t compare yourself to me. I’m a pretty,” Grantaire snorted, “rich boy with ideas and a group of idealists. You’re amazing. Your art is fantastic- I’ve never seen anyone so good, and… Look I’m sorry. I get frustrated with you. I get so frustrated you don’t be who you could be.”  
“I noticed.” Grantaire said.  
“Will you- Sorry, I’m really bad at this-”  
Oh and now Combeferre had enough of him and walked away from Jehan. “Grantaire, Enjolras is trying to ask you out and being the idiot he’s starting to scare himself out of it.”  
Jean hurried over so he could put in his input. “Please don’t get scared out of it. You need each other more than you think.”   
“Why would you say something like that Prouvaire?” Enjolras rolled his eyes.  
“Because I know these things.” He looked at both of them. “You guys’ll like it.” The Prouvaire gave big eyes. “Just try it.”  
No one can resist when Jehan begs.  
“Fine.” Grantaire and Enjolras agreed at the same time.  
Jehan grinned and hugged Grantaire. “Good! That’s good. Trust me Grantaire, this will be good for you.” He kissed his friend’s forehead. “I promise.”  
Jean seemed content with his friends’ choices. Combeferre too; he smiled and hugged Enjolras, and then Courfeyrac threw his arms around all four. “Good, good! Now my two favourite couples. My boys, it’s time to tear you from your boys so we can talk.” Courfeyrac took them over to the room away from Jehan and Grantaire, who both looked happier than they had in days.  
“I can’t believe he asked you; me and Bahorel thought he never would, but he did! Look at you you’re smiling!” he grinned at the other.  
“I guess I am.”  
“I mean- he knows you’re not better. He does. Well, I mean… You’re better. Because you’re awake. But metaphorically, you’re still sad. Which is okay. No one expects you to be happy.” Jehan cocked his head. “But maybe you won’t be as sad.”  
“I could really go for a joint right now.” Grantaire said.   
Joints were used medically. Sometimes. Maybe that’d make Grantaire smile more. “When we get home!” he smiled. “Er, your home. We can’t tell Enjolras and Combeferre though.”  
Grantaire nodded. “You my friend should use your evil powers of the manipulation of a perfect pout to get them to go. But… Not right away? I don’t want them to go straight away.” Jehan nodded and hugged him.   
“Want me to call everyone over?”  
“Yeah, that’d be great.” Jehan hugged him one more time and pulled out his phone sending out a mass text. Grantaire’s homecoming party in twenty.  
The other boys were having a similar talk. “Guys, I really think we should convince them off the things they do.” Courfeyrac said. Quickly he turned to Marius. “My love, this stays here.”  
“Alright.” Marius kissed his cheek.   
“I kind of- we shouldn’t make Grantaire do much of anything right now.” Combeferre said. “We’d look like awful friends, trying to force him out of his vices when he just left the hospital.”  
“And for Jehan?” Courfeyrac asked.  
“I just… I don’t think it’s a good idea. Trying to force him out would leave R without a buddy. He needs people, the poor man.”  
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to let them both going on as they do. They’ll hurt themselves.”  
“They’re big boys, both of them. We shouldn’t try to do anything like this. We shouldn’t be talking about them without them in on it.”Combeferre sighed. “How about we talk to them about it?”  
“There’s my ‘Ferre, coming up with all the good ideas. We’ll bring it up another day though.”  
Jehan came out, and pulled ‘Ferre into a hug. “Hey, R’s parents are ready for us to head over to his place. I’ve mentioned the homecoming party to everyone, and they’re on their way.” He kissed Combeferre quickly. “Thank you for putting up with me these last few days. You truly are Heaven sent.” He smiled.  
Combeferre blushed in front of his friends, and Courfeyrac laughed at them. “Marius, help- they’re too cute.” He grinned and pretended to faint into Marius’ arms.  
“Courfeyrac do yourself a favour and shut up.”  
“Only looking out for my boy.”  
Enjolras sighed and went back into the room. “Ready?”  
“Yeah.” Grantaire said sighing.  
“Cool… So uh… Coffee tomorrow before class?”  
“Yeah… That sounds fine I guess.” Grantaire smiled.  
“I can drive you.”  
“Cool.” Grantaire smiled a little and then Enjolras smiled back.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the cute part


End file.
